


Stomach Flu

by 2dsickfics



Series: Marvel Cinematic Universe Fics [9]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Nausea, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2020-04-23 09:38:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19148419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2dsickfics/pseuds/2dsickfics
Summary: Peter Parker/Spiderman and Nathaniel Barton - Stomach Flu fic from my tumblr.





	Stomach Flu

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, Peter and Nate catch a bug while he and Tony are staying with the Barton family for a weekend so our bug boi can meet the baby (not because Tony doesn’t want to leave his the kid alone, or anything. Just wanted to catch up. With a former enemy of sorts?).

It’s only an hour until dinner will be ready and, usually, Peter would be practically starving. However, tonight he feels… not hungry? He doesn’t feel sick or anything, just a slight headache, so this confuses him. He stops thinking about it and continues his math assignment; it’s due in a few days but he want’s to have his evenings free for patrolling when he’s back home.

“Hey, food’s up!” Clint yells excitedly from the kitchen, “Go wash your hands and sit at the table, Pete!” It seems like it would be chaos any other time, but Lila and Cooper had wanted to stay at friend’s houses, so Nathaniel was the only Barton child around right now.

“Coming.” Peter mumbles back, Tony quirking an eyebrow at the softness of his voice.

“I hear you have quite the appetite?” Clint starts as he brings Nathaniel to his high-chair.

“Uh, yeah.” The teenager mumbles, embarrassed, “Enhanced metabolism kinda does that, I guess.” He doesn’t want to be rude, but he doesn’t want people to think he’s unwell when he’s not. He knows he’s not going to eat much tonight, but he forces down a small second serving to squash any suspicions.

He regrets this decision when he wakes up in the early hours of the morning, incredibly nauseous and feverishly shivering under his blankets. He lays there for a while, hoping the feeling will pass, before deciding that it won’t and shuffling unsteadily to the bathroom.

“Peter?” He recognises the archer’s voice and grunts a “Come in. ” before looking towards the now-open doorway, “Are you feeling sick? You got up almost half an hour ago.”

“Sorry for waking you, Mr Barton, I just- yeah, I’m feeling pretty awful.” He hasn’t thrown up yet, but with the way his throat is trying to clench and his mouth fills with spit, he can’t imagine it’ll be much longer.

“For waking me? No, I’ve already been up for an hour.” When he recieves a confused look, Clint continues, “Apparently you’re not the only one feeling sick. Nate’s just gone back to sleep for a bit, but he’s already puked on me twice.”

The ill feeling starts to subside, but he doesn’t know how long it will last. Hearing that Nathan also has an upset stomach makes him feel less guilty about people being awake, but he also feels like a burden that’s taking away from the attention the baby needs. He decides that he’ll go back to bed if he doesn’t puke in the next 10 minutes and starts countng the seconds because he really just wants to sleep.

He ends up on the couch instead when he nearly falls asleep on the tiled floor after losing count, curling up on one end while Clint rocks Nathaniel to calm him down again. The boy’s cries are harsh on Peter’s ears but he drifts off anyway, his body exhausted from infection.

* * *

“We should get him to drink some water. He’ll get dehydrated.”

“We don’t want that. He’s sweating too much already, let alone when the vomiting starts.”

Peter becomes aware that they’re talking about him, but then he realises he heard a female voice. He rolls over to see Laura holding her baby and Clint watching him, concerned.

“Hey buddy, you with us?” He jokes, smiling at Peter’s reply of muffled groaning, “Stark’s not up yet, but he’ll want you to be in decent shape when he does rise from the dead. Which means no dehydration.” The father-of-three holds out a glass of water to Peter.

“Th’nks, ‘m thirs’y.” The kid mumbles, earning a laugh from the parents.

“I’ll bet you are, with that fever.” Laura says as a means of explanation. 

The water helps Peter’s throat feel less dry, but it sits heavily in his stomach, “Don’t feel well. ‘S Nate okay?”

“He’ll be alright, just a stomach flu. Think you know that already, though.” Mr Barton laughs sympathetically.

“Can I hold him?” Pete loves kids, so Laura had been expecting this question sooner or later. Nothing would keep this kid from hugging a smaller kid.

“Sure, just be careful. Keep him still.” She agrees.

When Tony stumbles out to see his ill-looking child holding another ill-looking child, he has a few questions. He settles on the most important one.

“You okay, Pete? Lookin’ a little green around the gills there, buddy.” He answers his own question, but the kid replies anyway.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just a stomach flu. Nate’s got it too, as you can see.” He nod’s his head down towards the tiny human in his arms. He shifts position so there’s less pressure on his stomach, but that seems to jostle the baby enough to vomit.

 All over Peter.

The kid, bless him, tries to stay calm as his face goes completely void of colour and says, “T-take him, please.” with an underlying urgency that can only mean one thing.

The smell of baby-puke is thick in his nostrils as he runs to the bathroom. The feeling is worse; slimy and dripping down his front. It’s a wonder he even makes it to the bathroom door before retching in the hallway. There’s a splatter and Peter feels bad for a moment before stumbling around the puddle and over the toilet, frantically fumbling to open the lid.

Tony cringes as he hears the first splash of stomach contents hitting water and clears the rest of the hallway in two strides to rub the kid’s back soothingly. Poor thing is dragging in breaths and coughing harshly over the toilet, barely catching a break before gagging again, bringing up mouthfuls of partially undigested dinner. When he’s finally able to control his gag reflex, Peter doesn’t have the confidence to move so he simply rests his head on his arms over the toilet.

He burps up a final thin stream of the acidic substance before leaning against the bath uncomfortably.

Tony pulls him over to lean against his chest, passing a glass of water to the teen before leaning to flush the toilet. There’s a small slurping sound and a moan as Peter fights to keep the small sip of water down.

“Let’s get you some pepto and a bucket, and then you’re sleeping as much as possible.” Tony orders.

Peter doesn’t argue.


End file.
